


Hidden Marks

by TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy



Series: Hidden Marks [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt, Greg Lestrade to the Rescue, Hurt/Comfort, Light Dom/sub, M/M, rated explicit for a reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-08-06 14:40:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16389620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy/pseuds/TheUniverseIsRarelySoLazy
Summary: Greg realises that Mycroft is off somehow. When he confronts him, he learns a secret, and Mycroft learns one about Greg.





	Hidden Marks

**Author's Note:**

> My story for the MG Birthday Auction! Thank you so much for donating!
> 
> I know it said 3k, but I went over 5k. Oops. :)

“That will be all, detective inspector,” Mycroft said in a clipped tone.

Even if he hadn’t explicitly stated the dismissal, Greg would’ve heard it in his voice. Mycroft had been absent-minded and irritated for most of their discussion, even though the actual topic had been a mild one. Greg was sure that someone else wouldn’t have been able to pick up on the subtle changes of speech that betrayed Mycroft’s mental state, but he knew the man so well by now that he actually worried. It wasn’t unusual for Greg to worry – he was concerned about almost everyone who stepped into his life for more than a few days. It’s what made him such a good inspector, but also what made his work so very difficult sometimes. 

Mycroft though… Mycroft was different. Greg knew how a Holmes worked by now. He had known the man for years. So he collected all his courage and stared at Mycroft, who had turned his attention back to a printout on his desk. A few seconds passed, then Mycroft raised his head again, eyes focussing on Greg’s, a slight frown on his face.

“Is there anything else I can help you with?” Mycroft asked, though it seemed more like an order to leave immediately than an actual question.

“Are you alright?” Greg said before he could stop himself. “You don’t seem like… yourself.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened in apparent shock, but that was the only emotion his body betrayed, and for a second at most, before he frowned again.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but I am fine,” he said.

“I… Yeah, I figured you’d say that. Probably just some work thing that has stressed you out, that you can’t talk about to someone like me,” Greg rambled, looking anywhere but Mycroft’s face. “I was just… worried for moment, which is probably ridiculous. Forget I asked.”

Greg gave Mycroft a half-smile and was about to turn away when he heard Mycroft clear his throat, which made him look back into narrowed eyes, which seemed to stare into his very soul. He swallowed once, nervously. Had he overstepped the invisible line? Would he ever leave this office alive?

“What gave me away?” Mycroft asked quietly.

“What?”

“I pride myself on perfect composure. It’s something I need to do my work. So tell me, what gave me away?”

Greg swallowed and put a hand on the back of the visitor’s chair to steady himself.

“I’m sure no one, who doesn’t know you, would’ve even realised…” he started, then bit his lip when Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Right. Your responses were a little bit slower. Usually you almost start talking before I have even finished, like you always know what I’m about to say – what my conclusion will be. I felt like I had room to breathe in our conversation today. You didn’t keep as much eye contact as usual… Your posture is always straight, but today it’s so straight, it’s rigid. Your tea cup–”

“That’s enough,” Mycroft cut him off. “I get the bigger picture.”

“Sorry,” Greg mumbled.

Mycroft eyed him with what could be called his most inquisitive stare. The one that made Greg feel hot and cold at the same time. He made a conscious effort not to break eye contact.

“Never try to fool a detective?” Mycroft finally said and actually laughed.

He slumped back in the chair, posture forgotten, hands over his face, and took a long, deep breath. He massaged his eyes briefly, then opened them again, looking at Greg with a mixture of tiredness and defeat.

“I haven’t been sleeping,” he said slowly, watching Greg’s face attentively for any reaction. “I usually don’t sleep much, but what precious little rest I get hasn’t been all that… restful lately.”

Greg had relaxed a fraction, but he still wasn’t sure where the line was. This shift both relaxed and worried him. Mycroft shook his head and sighed.

“I won’t send you to Siberia for asking about my health.”

“That’s a relief,” Greg said with a smile.

“You worry too much.”

“It’s not something I can control.”

Mycroft nodded. “And neither should you.”

They looked at each other for a while, Greg’s mind blank beyond the thought how odd, yet how very pleasant it was to see Mycroft relax for even a bit. He seemed like different person. Then Mycroft stood up and walked around the table, so he came to stand next to Greg. He held out his hand.

“Thank you for your concern,” the other said with a smile that was almost shy. “I might take the rest of the day off, if even an inspector of the Yard can see how tired I am.”

“Oy! That’s not how you thank someone,” Greg replied, but reached for Mycroft’s hand anyway, a smile of his own on his lips.

Then he looked down at their joined hands, marvelling briefly at how soft Mycroft’s skin was, when something stood out to him in vivid red and blue. His eyes widened in shock and he instinctively pulled Mycroft’s arm out further, so his shirt would slip up a bit more. Mycroft seemed briefly confused, then looked down as well and immediately ripped his hand from Greg’s, pulled down his sleeves, stumbled backwards.

“Leave,” Mycroft hissed, expression seemingly as cold as he could manage.

“Mycroft, that’s–”

“Leave!” the other shouted. 

Greg could hear the order, but also the pain in Mycroft’s voice. He swallowed. It was now or never. He could go and ignore it, forget anything happened. But when he looked into Mycroft’s eyes he could see hurt and confusion, and his heart broke at the mere thought of leaving him alone like this. Greg turned briefly to lock the door, telling his own heart to slow down at the intake of Mycroft’s breath. As he turned around, Mycroft had slipped back into his professional persona, arms crossed, glaring at him with all the wrath he could muster.

“Leave, or I’ll call my security guards.”

“I would never harm you. You must know that.”

Mycroft sighed. “Of course I know that. Otherwise they’d be here already.”

“Mycroft, what happened there? This probably crosses lines I don’t even know existed, but it doesn’t look good. Doesn’t look good at all.”

“I can’t even begin to tell you how very much… none of your business this is,” Mycroft mumbled, stumbling over his words. “Leave.”

“No.”

Mycroft tensed and looked to his desk. Greg knew there would be a panic button, hidden somewhere. He held up his hands to show that he was absolutely no threat and sighed. Their eyes locked again.

“Alright. I’ll tell you what I think this is, and then you can tell me to fuck off and I’ll leave. But if it is what I think it is, you really shouldn’t–”

“Get to the point,” Mycroft hissed.

“Fine. The marks on your wrists look like rope burn… and not the pleasant kind. They look fresh, very recent. I’d wager they’re less than a day old, probably from last night. Any kind of mark from a proper binding would’ve faded over night, leaving nothing but a bit of sensitive, red skin… not these bruises. They look horrible. Aren’t you hurting?”

“What would you know about that?” Mycroft asked quietly. His posture hadn’t relaxed, but he didn’t look like he’d bolt at any second.

Greg pushed a hand through his hair. He had said too much already, so he might as well go all the way. Now this was a conversation he thought he’d never have during the daytime, in a government office, least of all with Mycroft Holmes.

“I know what these look like because I’ve seen them before. I take extra care to avoid them when I… when I use rope myself. An actual injury is not pleasant for anyone.”

“You’re saying that…”

“Look, Mycroft, what I do after hours to relax is no one’s business but my own. Just because I don’t flaunt it… I mean, you get what I’m saying, I’m sure.”

Mycroft looked to the floor, then let the fingers of his right hand glide under the cuff of his left and stroke the skin, face briefly looking like he’d start to cry, but then he looked up again to search for Greg’s eyes.

“I understand,” he said quietly. “I just never thought…”

“Likewise.”

Mycroft sighed a very deep, long sigh, then gestured to the armchairs in a corner of his office. Greg took the invitation and sat down, waiting for Mycroft to do the same. Silence settled with them into the corner, blanketing everything for a while, until Greg evicted it again.

“So, what happened?” he asked softly.

The corner of Mycroft’s mouth twitched. He first removed his suit jacket, then the cufflinks from both shirtsleeves and rolled them up. Greg’s eyes widened as he saw the marks standing out angry and red against Mycroft’s pale skin, most prominent around his wrists, but some fading abrasions around his lower arms as well.

“Let me assure you that the man who did this is permanently out of a job,” Mycroft said and put his arms down on his lap, staring at the damage.

“If it was me I’d lock him up…” Greg mumbled. “Fuck, Mycroft… that isn’t all, is there?”

“I had thought about taking a few days off, after all. It is incredibly difficult to sit still with… this all over your body.”

Greg swallowed and cautiously reached out with one hand, stopping himself almost immediately, falling back again. Just because Mycroft was showing him didn’t mean he wanted Greg to… he groaned.

“Didn’t you safeword?”

“I tried. I couldn’t exactly speak at the moment, and he was… too occupied with himself.”

Mycroft had turned his head away, eyes closed, face red. Greg didn’t know if it was from pain, embarrassment or both, and it broke his heart. No wonder Mycroft had been so scattered today. If he had to live with the repercussions of something like this… How could Mycroft do it?

“I’m so sorry,” Greg said. “This is… I don’t know what to say…”

“It isn’t your fault.”

“It doesn’t exactly throw a good light on people like me. I hope you know I would never allow–”

“I believe you,” Mycroft whispered. “You care too much. You’d be… perfect.”

He had closed his eyes, tears forming at the corners. Greg’s heart broke just seeing the other man like this. He had never felt a particular strong attraction to Mycroft, but with everything he felt himself drawn to him, just wanted to cradle him in his arms until it got better. Kiss his pain away. He slipped to his knees in front of Mycroft’s chair and put one hand on his knee to get his attention. When Mycroft’s eyes opened they were unfocussed, unsure, afraid.

“Did you have a medical professional look at this?” he asked.

“I… yes. There is no lasting damage… it’ll just take a while to heal.”

“Good,” Greg breathed. “I suppose there’s something you need to apply to help the tissue repair itself?”

Mycroft’s eyes widened a fraction, as if he immediately latched onto Greg’s meaning. He actually blushed and reached out with one hand, to put it over Greg’s on his knee. He took a few seconds to answer, and when he did his eyes were closed. He nodded slightly, squeezing Greg’s hand. Greg could see how hard it was for him to give himself over into yet another pair of unfamiliar hands, so shortly after… he growled on the inside. If he’d ever lay hands on the bastard who did this… 

Greg lowered his head and kissed Mycroft’s fingers, where they were wrapped around his. He heard a sharp intake of breath above him, but the fingers didn’t move, so he let his lips glide over the back of Mycroft’s hand, caressing the skin lovingly. He stopped just in front of the ugly bruise, blooming in a dark blue. His heart stopped for moment before he kissed the hurt skin as softly as he could, lips lingering. Mycroft’s breathing had sped up, and he felt the muscles flexing in his hand.

“We can go into my private room adjacent to this one,” Mycroft said quietly.

Greg drew back and nodded. This wasn’t some sort of date or seduction. He didn’t need to accompany Mycroft somewhere else, least of all his home, and he hadn’t expected Mycroft to offer. This was care – aftercare. The thing Mycroft was clearly missing. It was late, way too late, but Greg was determined to reassure and care for the man. He couldn’t leave him like this.

“Thank you for trusting me with this,” Greg said just as quietly and looked up into Mycroft’s eyes. The look he received was one of anxiety, tinged with fear, but the edges were softening already, and that was all Greg needed to know he was actually wanted and didn’t push himself on someone who had no choice.

They walked over to the other room quietly, door locked behind them again. Greg was surprised to see that the private room contained not only a sofa in front of a fireplace, but also a bed. Mycroft quickly explained that he was often working at odd hours and found the comfort of sleeping here much more conductive to his schedule than the travel to his flat. He sat on the edge of the bed and watched Greg approach, looking incredibly lost. Greg had never seen Mycroft like this and it made him feel both afraid and protective at once. He pushed aside his fear and came to kneel in front of the other again, instinctively trying to make himself seem as non-threatening as possible. Greg was sure that Mycroft would see through every single motivation of his actions in an instant, but that was alright.

“I won’t touch you beyond applying this,” he said and held up the tube he had snatched from Mycroft’s desk. “This is what I offered and what you agreed to. Undress only as much as you feel comfortable with. I appreciate that it might be difficult to be touched right now, and you can tell me to stop anytime. I assure you I won’t be cross. I… just want to make sure you’re alright.”

“It should’ve been you,” Mycroft whispered and put a hand on Greg’s head, carding it through his hair. “If I had only known… It should’ve been you…”

“It can still be me. Just not right now,” Greg replied and swallowed his rising emotions. “You need care and rest.”

“Yes…” Mycroft agreed and reached for the buttons of his shirt.

It took him a while to open them, fingers not exactly shaking, but not as precise as they usually were. Greg let him take his time, warming the tube between his hands as he waited. Finally Mycroft shrugged the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall behind him. He looked into Greg’s eyes with a sort of finality in them. Here I am, they seemed to say. Judge me however you like. Greg let his gaze roam over Mycroft’s exposed upper body and was relieved to see that the worst damage had actually been on his wrists. There were abrasion to be seen in many places, but no bruising. Still, it didn’t look pleasant.

“Are you comfortable like this?” he asked.

Mycroft hesitated a bit, then shuffled back to sit cross legged on the blanket and gave Greg a cautious smile. Greg rose to his feet and sat next to Mycroft, not exactly distant, but not close enough for their bodies to touch.

“Give me your hand, please,” he said and held out his, palm upwards.

Mycroft did as he was told. Greg squeezed some cream on his own lower arm and dipped the fingers of his right hand into it, hesitating a fraction before touching them to Mycroft’s wrist, but then finally letting them come into contact. He carefully rubbed his fingers in a circular motion across Mycroft’s skin, applying the salve first to his wrist, then along the red lines on his arm. Mycroft watched him silently, following the motion with his eyes, closing them briefly when Greg applied his whole palm to stroke the skin on his arm. A small sigh escaped him when Greg switched to his other arm and repeated the motions. Greg could see Mycroft’s shoulders losing their tension and his back curving as he relaxed under his ministrations, taking a little bit longer to caress his arm than was technically necessary.

“May I?” he asked and pointed at Mycroft’s chest.

The other nodded and leaned back a bit to give Greg better access. There wasn’t much damage here – thank god – and most of it was on the upper part of the chest, as if a rope had been wrapped around it, going under Mycroft’s arms. Greg had already deduced the position Mycroft must’ve been in… on his front, arms behind his back, probably secured to the ceiling. His legs must’ve been tied as well… He swallowed. There was an image in his head he’d probably never get rid of. And it was definitely not good to think about it while he was so close… Greg looked up to see Mycroft stare at him with an odd look in his eyes. But what did odd mean anyway in this situation? It was absurd, frankly. Then Mycroft smiled at him.

“Penny for your thoughts?” he asked softly.

Greg huffed a laugh. “You don’t want to know.”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want to know.”

Greg swallowed. He reached out and touched his fingers to Mycroft’s chest, rubbing in the salve with as much care as he used on the arms… maybe even more. “Do you do this often?”

“Sometimes,” Mycroft answered. “It’s not something I indulge in, usually. I felt like I needed the distraction.”

“Professionals?”

“Supposedly.”

Greg hummed and let his fingers wander higher, gently tilted Mycroft’s chin up. Mycroft followed his silent instructions without protest, exposing his throat. Greg felt him shiver as his fingers ran across the skin, checking for any blemishes, relieved to find none.

“Only your back left then?” Greg asked.

“...and my thighs. Ankles.”

“That’s it?” Greg asked, much implied through his tone.

“We… hadn’t progressed much further,” Mycroft said, eyes averted. “Luckily.”

“Good,” Greg replied and shifted on the bed to sit behind Mycroft.

They shared the silence as Greg put both hands on Mycroft’s back and massaged the cream into his skin, touch light but determined, moving slightly beyond the abrasion, stroking his sides soothingly. He felt Mycroft lean against the touch, soaking in the love that Greg projected through it, because that was what he was doing. Mycroft needed it now, more than anything, and even though Greg wouldn’t claim to be in love with the man, he had plenty of it to give… and the way that Mycroft was opening up to him made him feel almost drunk on the offered trust.

“May I…?” Greg asked and pointed at Mycroft’s trousers.

“Yes,” Mycroft replied and leaned back to lay down on the bed. 

He opened the trousers and pulled them off, dropped them from the bed. He did so without hesitation, almost mechanical, but when he laid back again, his eyes were closed. Greg’s breath caught as he looked out at those long legs, creamy white skin only marred by a few angry red lines over the thighs and bruises around the ankles. He didn’t trouble the man by asking again, just wordlessly picked up the tube and proceeded with his task. Mycroft had his eyes closed, let himself be moved by Greg’s warm hands, sighed when he lifted his leg to reach the ankle, fingers digging into the blanket beneath. Greg took his time, hands roaming Mycroft’s skin, but never traveling further than was proper.

When he was done, Mycroft rolled onto his side to face him and drew his legs up. He looked up at Greg, his eyes softened but still wide awake.

“Thank you…” he whispered, his hand reaching out for Greg’s to stroke over his fingers.

“Anytime,” Greg replied. “I mean it.”

“You really do,” Mycroft said.

“Mhmm…”

Greg looked over Mycroft’s body again, then back into his face. He swallowed. This felt fragile, tentative. But also right.

“You look cold. Want to… lie under the blanket? Together? I think I want to hold you if you’ll allow it.”

“I think I’d like that,” Mycroft said with a smile.

It took some rearranging, Greg’s suit jacket now also on the floor, as well as his shoes, but then they had slipped into the bed together, Mycroft immediately folding himself into Greg’s waiting arms, pressing his face into Greg’s shoulder. Arms were wrapped around the other, bodies molding closely together as if they’d done it a thousand times before, their legs tangling. Mycroft sighed contently, nuzzling the skin of Greg’s shoulder through his shirt. There was no hesitation anymore. He was taking all Greg was willing to give. Greg reached up with one hand and softly stroked Mycroft’s hair, daring to turn his head and press a kiss to Mycroft’s forehead.

“You’re too good to be true,” Mycroft whispered, his fingers digging into Greg’s back. “How can I ever repay you?”

“Knowing you’re alright is enough for me.”

Mycroft laughed softly. “You have to stop.”

“Why?” Greg asked and kissed his forehead again, lips lingering.

“Or I’ll fall for you.”

“Would that be so bad?”

Mycroft looked up, his eyes open and vulnerable as they gazed into Greg’s. Both moved at the same time and their lips met forcefully at first, then they softened as Mycroft moaned quietly. Greg took control almost immediately, his fingers tightening in Mycroft’s hair, pulling his head back slightly. He had only meant to test the waters, but the way Mycroft all but melted in his hands gave him heady power rush that he wasn’t at all prepared for. He pulled his head back further and applied lips, tongue and teeth to his throat, slowly, but persistently sucking on his skin. Mycroft squirmed in his grasp, pressing himself against Greg and suddenly there was absolutely no question about his enjoyment anymore, as he was twitching against Greg’s leg.

“Mycroft?” Greg swallowed and consciously moved back from the man, lest he be swept up in his excitement… which he had already been, if he was honest, but he was always the one to keep a clear head. He had to be. “What do you want?”

“Touch me. Make me feel good. Please. I’m so tired… I need… I need to forget last night,” Mycroft whispered. “Please, Greg.”

Greg looked into Mycroft’s eyes, searching for any kind of doubt, but he saw nothing but clear understanding. Mycroft was hurt, but he was conscious of his choice, and he projected that for Greg to see, to understand. Greg nodded.

“I can do that. What do you need?”

“Just… a strong hand that decides for me. No pain. Not too much of it anyway. I… oh god, I feel bad just for asking this of you,” Mycroft said and put his hand on Greg’s face. “Do you find me attractive?”

“You’re a very handsome man.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

“It’s the truth. I envy everyone who was ever allowed to touch you before.”

Mycroft sighed. “Then it won’t be too much of a hardship when I ask you to… thoroughly take care of me.”

“It would be my honour.”

Greg turned his head and kissed the inside of Mycroft’s palm before he bit down gently on the skin, making him squirm and laugh. He slipped his leg over Mycroft’s body and turned it as he went, straddling his thighs, both hands next to Mycroft’s head. He looked down at the red lines that still crossed the other’s body, then back up again.

“You’ll tell me when I’m hurting you? One word is enough. I’ll stop, I promise.”

“I know you will.”

“Hands over your head and keep them there,” Greg said and saw Mycroft comply with a sigh. He closed his eyes, then opened them again to focus on Greg. “You can keep them closed, if you like. Whatever is comfortable for you.”

Mycroft nodded and let his head fall back, eyes looking at the ceiling for a moment, then closing again. Greg sat down properly, all weight on Mycroft’s legs and looked down. His erection was tenting the dark underwear, straining against Greg’s who was still more of less fully clothed. Greg liked being dressed during a scene. It gave him an edge, an air of superiority. He liked to see the other exposed, see the contrast. His fingers traced lightly over Mycroft’s cock, feeling the outline through the fabric, then enclosed it with his hand, just holding it still. Mycroft whimpered at the feeling, body shivering. Greg could feel him twitch in his grasp. He knew he wouldn’t draw things out, not now. But Mycroft still needed a show of strength to know he wasn’t in charge. Greg could achieve that with more subtle measures when he had the time, but for now a physical demonstration would do. Normally the easiest way would indeed be rope, but that was the furthest from Greg’s mind right now.

“Do you have any supplies here? Don’t make excuses, just tell me. I know you often sleep here.”

“Left bedside table, lowest drawer.”

“Thank you,” Greg said and slipped to the floor. 

Mycroft looked after him, hips raised slightly from the bed, grinding against nothing. He looked sublimely beautiful like this, the lines standing out against his skin, even though they shouldn’t be there at all. Greg found lube and a condom, pocketed them and crawled back onto the bed, kneeling next to Mycroft. He drew his fingers across Mycroft’s chest, catching on a nipple, massaging it slightly.

“I wish I could put proper lines on you. A beautiful pattern to suit your skin…”

He squeezed the nipple, making Mycroft gasp, then repeated the treatment with the other, while watching him breathe faster, eyes resolutely closed.

“Hold on to the headboard for me. Don’t let go.”

“Yes… sir,” Mycroft breathed and it was Greg’s undoing. 

It felt like with that small word he had finally delivered himself completely into Greg’s hands, body stretching under him like an offering, given willingly. Greg’s eyes almost filled with tears as he traced the line of Mycroft’s body down to his feet and kneeled between his legs. He let both of his hands glide over Mycroft’s legs until they reached the last piece of cloth that was covering him, and drew it down, discarded it. Mycroft shivered as Greg leaned over him, eyes opening as their foreheads touched. They searched for something in the other’s gaze and sighed as they found it. Then, finally, their lips met in a kiss that took Mycroft’s breath away. Greg pressed him down into the mattress with his weight, grinding his clothed erection against Mycroft’s, groaning as he felt Mycroft respond in kind, wrapping his legs around Greg’s body. Then Greg reached lower and found Mycroft’s cock to give it a sure stroke. Mycroft shouted, his grip on the headboard tightened, but he didn’t let go.

“Fuck…” Greg managed to say and let his mouth wander lower to latch onto the skin of Mycroft’s neck, low enough for his shirt to cover it.

Between Greg’s teeth on his neck and the sensation below Mycroft was panting, staring at the ceiling in pleasurable desperation. Tears were forming in his eyes from pleasure, joy and relief. Greg knew the look so well, only he had never thought to see it on Mycroft Holmes’ face. It was how it was supposed to be. How all of these scenes were supposed to go. Even the pain only was there to bring relief and peace in its aftermath. His heart was soaring, knowing that he was the one to make this right. Do to right by him.

When Mycroft was a boneless mess underneath him, cock red and weeping, breathing hard like he had run a marathon, Greg finally let up and sat back on his heels. Mycroft’s legs were spread over his thighs, wide open, but he didn’t seem to care. With his fingers, Greg collected the clear fluid that was dripping down and brought it to his lips with a grin. Mycroft sucked in a breath and his cock jumped. Greg took that as a good sign and reached into his pocket to retrieve the lube, now warmed by his body heat. Mycroft nodded and spread himself further, fingers white around the metal of the headboard.

Greg coated his fingers liberally, not minding the odd drop falling on his own trousers. They were already a mess thanks to Mycroft’s rutting. That was a problem they could solve later. He reached out with one hand, holding Mycroft’s cock tightly, and with the other pushed two fingers in right away, slowly, but steadily. Mycroft cried out, but his erection pulsed, did not wane a fraction. Greg lost no time to stretch him, spreading the clear lube as far as he could reach. Mycroft contracted around him, trying to hold him in as he was retrieving his fingers and Greg smiled briefly. He gave Mycroft’s cock another stroke and then finally opened his fly.

He had to grin when Mycroft gasped as he saw Greg’s erection spring free. It was a gratifying feeling, but he didn’t dwell on it, rather opened the condom and rolled it over himself, then took the lube and coated it as well. As he leaned over Mycroft, lining up, the head of his cock caught on his entrance, and they looked into each other’s eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“I have never been so sure,” Mycroft replied in a whisper. “Make me forget.”

Greg pushed in, in one swift movement. Mycroft cried out, straining towards him, eyes closed. He briefly loosened his fingers from the metal, but then gripped it again, still following Greg’s instructions beautifully. Greg grinded against him, making Mycroft moan, let his hands glide over his chest, squeezing both nipples, which resulted in a particular gratifying clench around him. As he rocked slightly, giving Mycroft time to adjust, he reached up and drew his arms down, entwining their fingers. Mycroft looked at him first in confusion, then in understanding, smiling until the first hard thrust made him shout.

“Fuck…” he cried.

“There you are. I never said you’re not allowed to talk,” Greg grinned and pushed in again. “I love your voice.”

“Greg…” Mycroft whimpered and reached out to him. “Greg… please…”

Greg went willingly into Mycroft’s arms, let their mouths meet in a heated kiss. He started moving, faster, ever faster, swallowing Mycroft’s moans as he did. He held the man down by his shoulders, pressing as much weight on him as he could, feeling his cock grow harder between them with every push.

“Don’t hold back,” he whispered into Mycroft’s ear, leaning slightly to the side so he could reach down and stroke him in time with his thrusts. “Give me your pleasure. Give it all to me.”

Mycroft convulsed on himself, fingers digging into Greg’s shirt, mumbling nonsense as he tried to push up into Greg’s hand, moaning even louder when he was pinned down. He buried his face in Greg’s neck, panting, and as he finally came bit down so hard that he drew blood. Greg groaned through the pain, the mere feeling of Mycroft shaking so desperately under him enough to push him over the edge.

As Mycroft came back to his senses he released a shocked gasp. “Greg I’m so sorry…” he muttered. “Your shirt…”

“This whole suit is ruined. Don’t worry about the shirt,” Greg laughed and slowly pulled out, tied up the condom and dropped it next to the bed.

“But…”

“I said it’s fine. I will gladly sacrifice a few clothes to see you smile like this.”

Mycroft’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t even realised that he was actually smiling at Greg, and broke out into laughter, shaking as Greg held him close. He buried his face in Greg’s chest, breathing in deeply.

“Thank you,” he said quietly. “I have a feeling I’ll sleep very well tonight.”

“The honour was all mine,” Greg replied.

“I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Mycroft, I did this as much for myself as I did it for you. I needed to see you be alright again,” Greg said and cuddled closer.

“I am,” Mycroft replied. “Believe me, I am. There’s only a small thing that makes me sad.”

“What is it?”

“The thought of letting you go. I had never even considered holding you in my arms, but now…” Mycroft took a deep breath. “Maybe I’m completely deluded, but the way you looked at me… Please tell me this meant more to you than just… helping me.”

“You’re special to me… have always been. But I think both our brains are a little too mushy to be thinking about this right now. Tell you what… how about we clock out for the day, get dinner and talk about this like grownups.”

“And to think you’d be the rational one in this relationship,” Mycroft laughed. “That sounds like wonderful idea. But for now…”

“Yes?”

Mycroft nuzzled into Greg and sighed. “Let me enjoy this a little while longer.”

Greg tightened his arms around Mycroft and tangled their legs together, pressed their bodies as closely as they could. Greg had a feeling that he had already fallen at some point during the last hour, but instead of making him feel anxious, the realisation just filled him with joy. He brought his hand to Mycroft’s hair and pulled slightly, which elicited a delightful gasp.

“As soon as you’re healed, I’ll show you how ropes are supposed to feel,” he whispered into Mycroft’s ear.

“Is that a promise or a threat, sir?”

“Both.”


End file.
